


From Richard to Rich

by Puglebug



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Child Abuse, Freshman year fic, I love rich tho, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jenna is so underrated???, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, Updates will be whenever I can!!, this is self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puglebug/pseuds/Puglebug
Summary: The first day of Richard’s freshman year. Was he excited? Not truly. He knew he was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a pivotal time in his life, right? But he couldn’t really get excited. Cause he was a poor kid from a poor neighborhood, who would get made fun of cause his shoes were second hand, along with his shirt and socks and pants. Cause he had a lisp and was bad at sports and talking to girls. He was the type to get picked on. He knew it. And he knew everyone else would know it too.





	From Richard to Rich

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys like it!! I spent like 12 hours writing this so :). Yeah it’s 2am.

The first day of Richard’s freshman year. Was he excited? Not truly. He knew he was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a pivotal time in his life, right? But he couldn’t really get excited. Cause he was a poor kid from a poor neighborhood, who would get made fun of cause his shoes were second hand, along with his shirt and socks and pants. Cause he had a lisp and was bad at sports and talking to girls. He was the type to get picked on. He knew it. And he knew everyone else would know it too. 

He got out of bed that morning to the broken up sound of music. Static mixing in with the upbeat tune of whatever pop song happened to be trending currently. It was a familiar sound. Even if he didn’t know the song that was playing. It had been broken since 6th grade. And. They didn’t have the money to replace it. So. It stayed broken. Though his mom had insisted on bedazzling it. He smiled fondly at the memory. 

But that didn’t matter now. He pulled himself out of bed, searching around on his nightstand for his taped up glasses. He had them broken too many times to count. And his dad would never buy him new ones. The last time he asked his dad had just chucked some medical tape at his face. So that’s what he used. Binding the broken frames together with whatever they had in the apartment at the time. 

He shuffled through the near silent apartment. Trying his best to make as little noise as possible. It was 5:00 am and he needed be out of the house to catch the bus by 5:30. And he didn’t want to wake his dad up. He made his way to the bathroom, coursing his fingers through the greasy mess that was dirty blonde hair. It was uneven and pushed just past his ears. 

It made him look like his mom. She had dirty blonde hair. But it was long. It was long and ran down her back. She would always sit and let him braid it. Richard didn’t know how she could be so completely still for so long. It reminded him of the tiger he would see at the zoo. Still. Just it’s chest moving up and down as it breathed. 

Richard brushed his teeth and did the best he could to wash his face, with the bar of soap that he kept under the sink. He took of his glasses to do it. The cold water hitting his face as he scrubbed. He did it. Mostly because his acne was terrible and he wanted to clear up some time this century. And partly. Out of routine. Because, for a second he could pretend that everything was the way it used to be. 

After drying his face on a washcloth discarded next to the bathtub, he walked back through the dimly little hallway to his room. He rifled through the contents of his dresser, trying to find something that didn’t look like it came straight out of a poverty in America PSA. Eventually. He settled on a pair of cargo shorts and a checkered flannel over a Mozart t-shirt. He looked kinda normal? Right. 

With his outfit in order he packed up what little school supplies he had managed to buy into his slightly too small backpack. Making sure to grab his iPhone, from where it had been charging next to his bed. He had gotten it for his last birthday, after much saving up on his brother’s part. 

Weaving his way through the hall and into the living room, he crept out the door. Richard checked his phone. 5:23. He was making good time. His shoes made a slight tap as they hit the linoleum floor. The hallway was lit with fluorescent lights and felt, nostalgic in a way he couldn’t describe. He slipped his phone in his pocket and stepped into the elevator. He had long since given up on optimism. Truly, what was the point of it? It didn’t actually solve anything. Hope was the most beautiful sort of drug. It lead you in to believe in miracles and in joy. Richard had learned the hard way hope was useless.

The elevator jerked shakily as it moved downwards. Though by now it didn’t faze him. It had always been broken. Everything in this place was. And the greedy bastard that was their landlord never bothered to do anything about it. But what could they do? They were poor. Everyone here was. They lived paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes they had to go without food. Suing some asshat was the least of their worries. 

The elevator eventually came to a screeching halt and Richard stepped out. The lobby was quiet. But not silent. The dull hum of racing cars could be heard outside. He looked over to see Rosy, the security guard was sitting at her usual desk. Her long black cornrows fell down her back as she smiled up at him warily. 

“You nervous?” She asked, her voice rough and raspy. It was comforting him. He had known her since he was a baby. She had always been there. A comfort to him when he needed it. 

Richard nodded. “Who wouldn’t be?” He continued, a lopsided smile creeping onto his face. He loved Rosy. He supposed. She was nice and she smelled like cheap perfume and peppermint. And he. Felt sorta like she was the only thing that came close to filling the void in his heart that his mom died. He instinctively walked closer to her desk. Inspecting the wedding ring on her finger as he looked at her. 

She smiled her signature toothy grin. “You know I’m proud of you right? Getting into that fancy school across town. Shit. I always knew you could do it.” She sucked her teeth affectionately and he subconsciously bowed his head as she messed with his hair. Rosy made him smile. With her deep booming laugh and eyes full of affection. 

He lifted his head back up and she waved her hand towards the exit. “Now go! You don’t wanna be late for your first day!” He nodded in agreement, that same sort of half smile on his face. 

His steps were swift as he pulled open the large doors. The street only lit by dim streetlights. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. It wasn’t cold though. The still summer like air sticking his legs as he walked. He knew these streets. They were his streets. Every crack, every dent and every place you shouldn’t go. He knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand.

Richard finally arrived at the bus stop, fidgeting with the hem of his flannel. No one else was there. Good. He didn’t truly know how to deal with other people. Especially kids his age. He had a lisp and was painfully awkward without it. Plus. He never fit much of anywhere. Not even here. He tested well, and didn’t talk much. He stood out. But funnily enough not enough. He was in that perfect spot just in between sticking out and fitting in. He supposed he blended in. 

He didn’t fit. But no one payed attention either way. So he supposed it was fine. He knew the same would happen at this new school. Maybe some douchebag would make a comment or two about his height. Which yes, he did know he was gonna be one of the shortest kids. But, he knew he probably wouldn’t get harassed. He was good at making it seem. Like he wasn’t even there at all. 

He leaned idly against the rusted metal that made up the small boxy shape of a bus stop. Richard shuffled his phone from his pocket. 5:36. Four more minutes till the bus came. He had. Long sense memorized the times at which these buses usually came. It would make the truck to this new school easier. No worrying about when. He hated worrying about when things would happen. It made it easier to know. 

He looked at his phone for a second more. Swiping to iTunes, selecting one of the very few free tracks he had managed to scrounge up. He slipped the earbuds in his ears, as the sound of piano began. Bach. His mother’s favorite. She had always taught him an appreciation for classical music. She always told him, that classical music allowed to see what another person was thinking when they wrote it. How you could for even just a minute understand what’s going in someone else’s head. 

The bus came into the station with squeaky halt. Rich looked to it. It was obviously not to code. And so old it looked almost decrepit but it was going where Rich needed it to. So he stepped on. Swiping his bus pass through. Fuck. He needed to refill it soon. He found a seat almost immediately, as it was of course, 5:40 in the morning. The darkness outside the windows was pretty almost. The sky still an inky Black. The faces of the scarce passerby concealed in the darkness. 

Music was his sole solace. He didn’t have much else but a tune in his heart. Which he knew was so disgustingly cliche. But through all the suicide temptations and bullshit. A background sound track made it easier.

As the bus moved steadily along, Rich suddenly a pang of an emotion he knew well. Fear. Fear that he would be rejected. Fear that everyone would hate him. He grabbed at his wrist and winced. Why. Why now was he thinking about this? He knew all of it was true. So why was he suddenly afraid of it. He was fine with being alone. Fine with being disliked. But suddenly. Even for just a moment. He was confronted with the fact that part of him wanted to fit in. To be cool and popular and.

Richard stepped off the bus as it came to a joltingly sudden stop. It was still a two block walk from here to school. God that had been a long bus ride. A dull ache of sleep still tugging at his limbs.q He looked at around. The sun was up in the sky now. And it was bright. Bright enough for Rich to see how different this place was. The sidewalk was even and clean looking, and trees were planted on the side opposite the road. It was pretty. Very pretty. 

He pulled his backpack closer to him and bitterly began to walk in the direction of his new school. It was quiet. And looked very peaceful. And as the row of evergreen trees ended, he saw the rows of large houses on either the side of him. God. The people in those places must have it good. He bet the kids who lived in those buildings lives were like fucking eggo waffle commercials. A mom and a dad and two kids and a dog. And they were happy. And things were good. 

As he neared the school building. He felt. Smaller. The seemingly impossibly big brick structure with its large doors feeling more suffocating than he could have anticipated. That same stringing fear stunned his feet as he stood in front of its wide steps. People pushed past him with very little notice. Richard heard a few absent comments on how he needed to move and such. But he didn’t care. Nothing he wasn’t already used to.

Eventually, he plucked up his courage and began to climb the steps. Swallowing thick lumps of nerves lodged in his throats as subconsciously held fiddled with the straps of his black and white backpack. One of his only good finds from the second hand store down the street from his house. He just needed to keep his head low and stay out of the way. 

Day one of freshman year. He could make it out alive. Right?


End file.
